


you live your life like a page from the book of my fantasy

by hawaiiwerewolf



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Drinking, M/M, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawaiiwerewolf/pseuds/hawaiiwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about honesty, friendship, and in some ways, finding your soulmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you live your life like a page from the book of my fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song, “Baby” by Warpaint, which doesn’t relate to the fic so much as I thought the simple phrase was nice.
> 
> ((also, this fic is basically an au where trevor never specifies the details of how he met Michael during "Pack Man" bc i'd never heard the full dialogue and didn't bother checking it until after this was finished and published.))

“You ever gonna tell me how you met your boy?”

The topic is brought up again, but this time over a round of a drinks in some seedy bar with neon lighting instead of in the cab of a truck driving along the freeway. 

Lamar is the one to bring it up again, seeing as simply waiting for Trevor to bring it up on his own has rendered useless. 

“Michael?” There’s something as to how Trevor simply says the name, something in his tone that’s laced with fondness and venom at the same time. An old friend who’s a new enemy. 

Trevor catches Lamar’s nod and his gaze shifts down to his drink, the hint of a bitter smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. 

“It’s a long story,” Lamar can recognize Trevor’s attempt at letting the subject drop again, and he can’t help but want to press even further. “and I don’t wanna _bore_ you or anything.” 

“What I’m bored with is this lame ass small talk we’re trying to pass back and forth,” Lamar says, popping another one of the complementary peanuts in his mouth, and he has Trevor’s attention again. “let’s get on a _real_ topic, homie. Something other than this “nice weather” bullshit.” 

“So, me making the biggest mistake of my life is what you consider a _real_ topic?” There’s some playful hostility placed behind the words, maybe some last attempt at trying to steer Lamar’s interest away, but it doesn’t work. 

“You really think of it as that?” It’s easy for Lamar to assume that Trevor’s exaggerating, because he knows how it is. Some days, even the best of your best friends can be your enemy. Lamar’s lost count of the times he’s thought - very briefly - about ending Franklin. It’s normal, it happens. 

“Yeah, I do,” Trevor’s staring down into his glass again, thumb stroking at the handle of the glass distractedly. He pauses, yet he sounds sure of himself. “well, I dunno, maybe not. But, some days, yeah, I wish I never met that fucker.” 

“I understand,” Lamar nods. “but shit’s in the past, you don’t got much of a say in it.” 

“Yeah,” Trevor sighs, because it’s true, and maybe he wishes that it wasn’t. “you sure you really wanna hear this, kid? I mean, it’s a long story-” 

“We ain’t got nothing but time, homie,” Lamar gestures around them, arms wide and open, and this seems to convince Trevor enough. “shoot.” 

“Alright, well,” Trevor begins with the slightest of smirks. “I met Michael somewhere around the late eighties, we were both real young, and we were both working on the same job at the time. I was supposed to fly in and meet Michael somewhere near along the Canadian border, and he was supposed to bring in some illegal goods for me to take back to our employer.” 

“Sounds easy enough,” Lamar comments before taking a drink of his beer, eyes still steady on Trevor. 

“It was,” Trevor agrees. “Only the job ended up being botched, and me and Michael, we just sort of _bonded._ Had everything went smoothly, I would still probably be in Canada and he’d probably be in the ground, where he’s supposed to be.” 

It’s strange how Trevor talks about his supposed old friend. Like he has this ability to switch from emotion to emotion. He’ll talk about him like he shared the best memories in the world with the guy, and then he’ll go and say something like he regrets the entire thing. 

It’s hard to put into exact words, but Trevor’s eyes sparkle with reminiscence all the while. 

“And you would’ve preferred it like that?” 

“I don’t know,” Lamar’s question has Trevor staring back down into his glass, shoulders tense. “probably would’ve been better that way, right?” 

Trevor’s so undoubtedly unsure when it comes to Michael. Lamar’s never seen Trevor be unsure of anything since he’s known him. 

“That’s something I don’t get about you, homie,” Lamar chuckles and Trevor’s staring at him, eyes narrowed and suspicious. “you talk about this fucker like you’re in love with him, and then you go and act like you hate him.” 

“It’s complicated, alright?” Trevor snaps, but he relaxes enough so he doesn’t look like he’s considering smashing his beer glass into Lamar’s head. “but I’m not _in love_ with Michael, and I _do_ hate him-” 

“Well, he must've meant _something_ to you,” Lamar gestures to the fading ink on Trevor’s upper arm, and Trevor’s eyes follow. “I mean, people don't usually go and get somebody’s name tattooed on them that they don't give a shit about.” 

“Back then, I did give a shit about him,” Trevor is quick to say. “Michael was my best friend, and it - ah, it _hurt_ when he died - or when I thought he died. But turns out, I was mourning a guy for 10 years that was perfectly fine and living the retired life up in this fucking hell hole.” 

Lamar manages to hide his slight offense and Trevor continues. “Back then, Michael wasn't a snake, or at least I didn't think he was, y'know? I fucking trusted him.” 

Things go silent between them for a moment after that. Trevor takes another sip from his beer and his eyes are distant, whether it be from the memories or the buzz he has to have by now. There’s this slow rock ballad that’s playing in the background that Lamar doesn’t particularly care for, and there’s loud yet unintelligible chatter surrounding them that helps distract Lamar from whatever thoughts he might have. 

He glances over at Trevor, though, and the other man seems to be lost in thought, and Lamar waits until Trevor returns his attention back to him with a sigh. 

“So, what,” Lamar says. “was he like your boyfriend or something?” 

The question is nothing more than a playful dig, something to get the conversation on a lighter tone, but Trevor’s looking offended again. 

“No,” Trevor says the word through gritted teeth. “he wasn’t my fucking boyfriend.” 

“Hey, look, man, I’m sorry,” Lamar is all too willing to apologize, because he doesn’t like seeing Trevor upset, because Trevor’s his friend. “I didn’t mean it, y’know, I didn’t-” 

‘It’s fine,” Trevor puts a hand up to silence him and they’re both engulfed in an odd little quietness once again. 

When Trevor speaks again, his words are slurred slightly and Lamar’s mind is cloudy with a pre-drunken haze. “So, what about you and Franklin?” 

Lamar glances over at him. “What about me and Franklin?” 

“I mean,” Trevor pauses, as if to gather his thoughts before continuing. “you ever thought that maybe...” 

Trevor trails the sentence off with a shrug and it clicks as to what he’s getting at. It’s Trevor’s turn to insinuate that maybe there’s something more lying beneath Lamar and his best friend’s relationship. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Excuse me for wanting to enforce a little honesty here,” Trevor sounds just as offended as Lamar. Either way, it makes them both out to be hypocrites. “isn’t that what this is about? Being honest with each other?” 

“Shit, I dunno,” Lamar shrugs. “I’m just saying that I got the right to back off when people start asking weird ass questions.” 

If the question, itself, wasn’t enough to catch Trevor’s attention, Lamar certainly has it now. Because Trevor’s _watching_ him, now. His entire torso is turned towards Lamar and his gaze is focused on Lamar’s face, as if searching for any signs of weakness. Lamar would be lying if he said it didn’t freak him out a little. 

“What’s so weird about it?” Trevor inquires. “Weird that it's true? Weird that you've actually thought about it but you don't wanna admit to it?” 

As badly as Lamar wants to deny any of these questions, there’s something that makes him break under the pressure of them. 

“Look, okay, maybe I have thought about it, but who ain’t?” Lamar says like it’s a peace offering. “Everybody thinks about banging their homies at least once in a lifetime.” 

Maybe it’s not necessarily true, maybe it is, but Trevor smiles at him, a wide, toothy grin that Lamar can’t help but return. 

\----- 

An hour and a half later, they’re out in the parking lot of the bar, the world spinning around them. 

“Hey, uh, maybe we could do something sometime,” Lamar suggests, stabilizing himself against the side of Trevor’s Bodhi, and he doesn’t catch the way Trevor’s eyebrow quirk up like he thinks Lamar means something else. “like a heist or something? Real “partners in crime” type shit.” 

It’s not a bad idea, and it’s not because of his current drunken state that Trevor’s considering it. But, of course, he can’t just let Lamar think he 100% agrees with it. 

“Whoa, now,” Trevor hesitates like Lamar just asked him to marry him. “what are we?” 

“You and me? We’re homies,” Lamar answers easily enough. “Real hard motherfuckers of the night, y'know. Nobody can touch us.” 

Robbing banks with Lamar, gangbanging, all that shit - it would definitely be a change. Since Michael’s crawled back into his little hole and Franklin’s given up the game, the opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time. 

“Homies,” Trevor repeats, liking the way the word feels. “I like that.” 

Lamar seems pleased, and there’s this distant little smile on his face that Trevor finds as warming as the alcohol, itself. 

“I like you,” Trevor adds after a moment’s hesitation. 

“I like you, too, homie,” Lamar says, and he’s still smiling. “that’s why we’re homies.” 

“Come on,” Trevor reaches out and gives Lamar a fond pat on the shoulder. “let’s get you home, _homie._ ” 

\----- 

Although, in a way, Trevor’s just as wasted as Lamar is, he still manages to drive them to the recreation center without totaling his truck, so there’s another plus of the night. 

“Hey,” He says, while Lamar’s sitting in the passenger seat still trying to gather his senses. “since we’re homies, does that mean you’re gonna start thinking about fucking me now?” 

Lamar registers the question a little later than any sober person would, and he glances over at Trevor, unfazed. “Fuck you.” 

“That’s not an answer,” Trevor points out. 

“Yeah, it is,” Lamar reaches for the door handle and Trevor can’t help but notice how his hand just lingers there instead of opening it. “my answer is fuck you, and I’ll see you later.” 

Now, he’s getting out, and Trevor manages to get out a “I bet you will, _homie._ ” before Lamar closes the door and he flips him off. Ironically, Lamar does it with a grin, one that Trevor mirrors as he watches Lamar disappear inside the building before pulling back out onto the road.


End file.
